


untitled brojen omegaverse fic i swear it will have a title soonish

by mm8



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha Bran, Alpha Jon, Alpha Sansa, Alpha Tormund, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Omega Jojen, Post-Season/Series 06, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 08:33:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10738005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/pseuds/mm8
Summary: Jojen is Bran's protector. It doesn't matter than Bran has the sight as well. It doesn't matter that Bran's the heir to Winterfell. It doesn't matter that Bran is his Alpha. He had always loved Bran and would do anything to defend him.





	untitled brojen omegaverse fic i swear it will have a title soonish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitty_fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitty_fic/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has nightmares. Her and Jon have a discussion about the future of Winterfell.

Winter. 

 

Mother and father had spoken of winter for years. How it was freezing cold, so cold that people froze to death in their beds. All anyone saw for years and years was mountains of snow. Food was scarce and people resorted to unspeakable acts to keep the hunger away for one more day. It was common for her parents to remind her and her siblings about how fortunate they were to have been born and live their lives during summer.

 

Winter was coming…

 

And mother and father were dead.

 

Sansa could hardly get a good night's sleep these days. Her recent experiences seemed to haunt her dreams. Father's execution, and the gut retching achy feeling of not being able to save him while only being a few feet apart. His rotting, maggot-ridden, and bloated head on a spike for everyone to see that Joffery forced her to look at each day.

 

Of course there were the nightmares about Ramsey.

 

Ramsey… Seven hells.

 

Not all of her dreams were bad. The nightmares were the ones that stuck out. They were the ones she remembered.

 

More often than not she awoke in the middle of the night drenched in sweat with fear in her belly and bile in her throat. 

 

Tonight was one of those nights. Sansa couldn't recall what her dream had been about. All she knew was that it had been daunting. She flipped the furs over, rushing to the toilet. Sansa got on her knees and vomited into the bowel, sobbing and hiccupping as it all came out. Once it was all over, she pressed her back against the cold stone, the rough texture digging into her skin. She pulled her legs as close as she could get and circled her arms around them.

 

It was still bizarre that she and Jon were in charge of the North, all of the North. She had grown up believing that Robb would look after Winterfell. It would be passed down to Robb's firstborn son, and if he didn't have any heirs, Bran would take over, skipping her entirely because she was a girl. It didn't matter that her second gender was alpha. 

 

Sansa pressed her forehead again her knees. All that was left of their family was her and Jon. 

 

Their parents were dead.

 

Robb was dead.

 

Rickon was dead.

 

No one knew what had become of Arya and Bran. Brienne saw her sister traveling with Clegane, but that was ages ago and so much could have happened. Nobody had spotted her younger brother for even longer. Both of them could very well be dead. It made her sick all over again.

 

Slowly she got to her knees, using the edge of the toilet to help her stand upright. Sansa was shaken. The memories of the past and thinking of the distance future made her head ache.

 

She felt so weak.

 

Grabbing her robe and slinging it on, Sansa left her room, walking as quietly as she could down the hall. Jon's chambers were at the other end of the corridor. Perhaps if she could talk to him she'd feel better. As she passed a few guards, Sansa smiled and waved. 

 

"Is everything alright, Lady Stark?"

 

Sansa whipped her head around to see Ser Seaworth. His face was shadowed by the candlelight, but he seemed concerned. Over the past few weeks she had learned for herself why Jon trusted the man so much. He was intelligent, kind, full of wisdom. Sansa hoped that soon they would be able to have the kind of friendship he had with her brother.

 

She gave him a genuine smile. "No, I'm quite alright, Ser Seaworth. I couldn't sleep so I thought that I would see if my brother was awake. If not, I would take a short walk."

 

Seaworth's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, before he yielded and moved for her to pass. "He went to his chambers not long ago, my lady. I am sure he will still be up."

 

He smiled gently, almost awkwardly, but averting his eyes to one of the guards who were watching the conversation. Ser Seaworth growled out an order to the man who immediately straightened his posture and turned his heel in the other direction.

 

Ser Seaworth curtly nodded, and left following the other guard.

 

Sansa let out a sigh. She hadn't wanted to have any sort of interactions on her way down the hall. She only wanted to see Jon. Talking to others seemed exhausting. She was still a little shaken from her nightmares and her only goal was to see her brother.

 

She made her way down the passageway without anymore trouble. Sansa stood in front of Jon's room, the one that used to be Robb's. She recalled that as a child she was afraid to go there. Not that she wasn't allowed inside. His room seemed imposing, off-limits, trespassers not allowed, _boys only_. Sansa was a grown woman now. A simple room should not give her ill feelings.

 

Sansa raised her fist and quietly knocked on the door three times. She waited to see if there was any sounds of life. All she heard was silence. Damnit, Jon must be asleep. Debating whether or not to knock again, less awake her brother, she turned her back to the door. A walk by herself it was then. 

 

She took a few steps to the staircase, when she heard it. Light footsteps, turning of a lock, and the creak of an old door. Sansa peered over her shoulder to find Jon poking his head out, his curls landing in front of his eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment. It was still overwhelming that they were _here_ and _alive_.

 

Sansa took a tentative step forward. "I-- I couldn't sleep. Would you like to take a walk with me?"

 

Jon blinked. "Y-- yeah. Of course. Give me a moment?"

 

Her brother disappeared into his room again. Sansa could hear muffled voices and the shuffling of feet. Her eyes popped out of her head when she heard a distinct low moan of pleasure. Was… was Jon with _someone_? She blushed, turning away from the door. Gods, she'd interrupted him with a woman. Sansa strode to the door that had been left slightly ajar. "Jon, it's alright. I'll-- " Her eyes widened as she saw the red haired Wildling standing behind her brother, throwing her a rather fiery glare. From what she could see, he was, well, not dressed. At all. Sansa went a deeper shade of red and averted her gaze, shielding the sight with her hand. "I can go--."

 

"No, no!" Jon cast his Wildling one last look as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

 

"Sorry, you didn't need to see that."

 

They walked up the winding staircase to the ramparts, Sansa ahead of Jon. She'd always hated these stairs. The turns were too sharp and the steps were too steep for her even now. 

 

"You and the Wildling?" Sansa's voice sounded unsure and small even to her.

 

"No? Yes? To be truthful, I don't know. It's recent. I haven't sorted it out yet."

 

Sansa smirked. "You always did have an attraction towards redheads."

 

"Sansa!" Jon half-whispered in surprise. A blush crept up his cheeks. "That's-- that's--"

 

"Not surprising? Honestly, Jon. You shouldn't be ashamed. Is it because he's older than you? Because he's a Wildling?"

 

"I'm not ashamed!! I'm-- What did you want to talk about anyway?"

 

She didn't answer as they stepped onto the ramparts. The stone was cold beneath her fingertips, and there was a thin layer of snow covering everything. She dragged her fingers through the snow as she walked. Sansa drew a heart, something she would have done as a girl. A heart. Something innocent and pure. She was repulsed by it and scowled at it as if it was the most disgusting thing in the world. Hearts were symbol of weakness, not strength or love. That she had a heart and cared too much was what got her into so much trouble. She rubbed out the drawing with her palm. She turned her head to see Jon staring at her from a few feet away, wearing a sad expressio on on his face. Sansa didn't like anyone looking at her with pity in their eyes.

 

"I think too much. That's what father would have said. He'd say I shouldn't worry over things that I can't control."

 

"Sansa?"

 

She didn't dare look at her brother. She stared at the darkness in front of them. The meters and meters of land that was now theirs to protect. "Do you dream?"

 

"Course I dream. Everyone dreams."

 

"What is it that you dream about?"

 

"War. Dying. _Again_. People who I have lost. Hope for what's in front of us. Tormund has similar dreams. Fighting for so long would do that to anyone. We comfort each other the best we can." Jon's footsteps crunched in the snow. He stood beside her, leaning his forearms on the wall. "Sansa, what's going on?"

 

Sansa shifted her stance. "I don't dream anymore. It's… they're too dreadful to be called dreams. They're _real_ and vivid and filled to the brim with blood." She realized that her hands were shaking. It took her by surprise when Jon's pale hand covered her own. His fist curled itself around her palm. 

 

"Our dreams, our nightmares… they don't define us, Sansa. It's what we do when we're awake that matters. Sometimes I dream an odd one that I'm talking to a unicorn about dresses." Jon smiled at her. He gently nudged her shoulder with his. "I haven't even told Tormund that one. C'mon, what silly nonsense do you dream?"

 

Sansa couldn't help but smile at that. Only a small smile, but still. "When I was little I'd dream that I was swimming in a river of chocolate, and that it dried up because I drank it all." she giggled, but abruptly stopped. "What are we going to do, Jon?"

 

"Keep going on," her brother said as if it were as simple as breathing. "We make Winterfell our own. Try our best to keep the peace and ensure everyone is happy."

 

Sansa scoffed. "That sounds like some bloody political horseshit."

 

Jon _laughed_. "Yeah, but it's still true. It might have been wrapped up in pretty words, but the sentiment is still there. We have to do what's best for the North now. Never thought I'd be here."

 

"Me either." She let out a slow, shuddering breath. "They're all _gone_ , Jon. We're the only ones left."

 

"Arya and Bran--"

 

"They're probably dead!" she snapped, whipping her head around to face her brother. "No one has seen them in years. The odds of them being alive are zero to none! This world has taken so much from us; I'm sure it won't stop until it consumes us all."

 

She was sobbing by the time she finished. Jon had wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder. Her brother held her tightly as she cried in the cold night. 

 

"Do you think Arya would have been an Alpha?"

 

"What?!" she choked out through her sobs. It seemed so stupid to think about now.

 

Jon continued talking to her in a soothing voice; one he'd use when she was a child and sick. "I think she'd be an Alpha. Rickon and Bran too. Mum and dad were Alphas, and everyone who had presented were too. I'd find it funny if Arya wasn't an Alpha. I mean… c'mon." 

 

"Yeah, yeah she would have been an Alpha. You think that Bran and Rickon would have been too?"

 

"Oh definitely! With the Stark family genes it's almost certain. I don't think there's been an Omega in the family since Aunt Lyanna, and there hadn't been one in ages before her."

 

Sansa bit her lower lip while surrendering into Jon's embrace. "I wish we could have seen them grow up."

 

Her brother buried his head deep in her shoulder. "I wanted to see Rickon grow up," he confessed softly. Jon squeeze her tight, before standing up to his full height. "Come on. We have to be up early in the morning. We have to prepare to meet Daenerys Targaryen."

 

She watched as Jon made a few tentative steps forward, before turning around and holding his hand out for her to grasp. Sansa grabbed it, and he led her down the stairs and accompanied her to her bedroom.

 

She didn't feel any better, but she felt a little more at ease that Jon had similar thoughts and feelings. Sansa slipped under the covers rather reluctantly.

\---------------------

Thousands of meters from Winterfell, way beyond the Wall, Jojen Reed bolted up, startled awake by his vision. 


End file.
